


nóiméad amháin

by Whatwefightfor



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Actually some light angst now that I think about it, As well as general sfw shenaniganary, Awkward Sexual Situations, But Rhea lives even though Byleth marries Petra because reasons, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, I must have a plot to justify my thirst, Nudity, Silver Snow Route, We're a full service, Why can't these two have a moment alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-06 23:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatwefightfor/pseuds/Whatwefightfor
Summary: Those who slither in the dark have been defeated. Rhea is recovering from her wounds, but stable, and Fódlan is united under Garreg Mach's tentative leadership. Byleth is under pressure to take the throne, but is reluctant to make such a decision without time to consider it. As luck would have it, time seems a precious commodity these days, because he can't even get a moment alone with his fiancée.





	1. Show and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone can spot mistakes in Petra's syntax, please point them out. I tried to replicate the game as accurately as possible without descending into cliché. 
> 
> For the Brigidian mythos, I'm sticking to what was referenced/implied in Petra's supports, with a few embellishments of my own design. However, since discovering that the surname "Macneary" is Irish Gaelic, I will be using Gaelic whenever I require Petra to speak her mother tongue. This will be achieved through google translate, so all ye Gaelic scholars, have mercy upon my poor soul. Feel free to make corrections.

On the first night of the Horsebow Moon, Byleth decided he was the luckiest man in the world.

He’d come to this conclusion several times over the past few days - simply making it through the last month had been reason enough for one occasion. The fact that he had survived, along with his students (barring two painful exceptions), the Knights of Seiros he was closest to, and his fellow goddessborn was nothing short of a miracle. 

Pulling Rhea out of her berserk transformation unscathed had been equally improbable, but he was grateful every day that she now rested, recovering from her injuries, and would soon be able to climb the Goddess Tower and look out once again upon a grateful Fódlan.

Then he had proposed to Petra. The memory of those moments would be something he treasured forever. He’d never doubted that she would say yes, in fact, he suspected she’d been prepared to propose to _him_ before he’d stolen the initiative. But the sound of her voice as she recited the Brigidian benediction, and her own words, chosen and rehearsed in his mother tongue, had brought tears to his eyes for the second time in his life.

Today’s reason was also Petra-related, if something Byleth could be a little less proud of. Because the former crown princess of Brigid was in his room, and about to get naked.

For the purpose of anthropological inquiry, of course.

He had been sorting through the documents, books, and writings from his father's office when he heard a knock on his door. It was still an hour or two before dinner, and the only reason he was in his personal quarters was that Alois and Leonie’s bickering over Jeralt’s various debts had been too distracting for him to focus. Why Byleth was not the subject of any of this debt was beyond him, but Leonie seemed reluctant to concede any part of Jeralt that she could call hers, and Byleth was more than happy to be exempt from this particular “inheritance.”

He set aside his old tactics primer along with Jeralt’s diary and unearthed a stack of supply charts. Most of these were dated and would serve no purpose, but perhaps Leonie would appreciate them as a reference. His gaze lingered on his father’s handwriting, clear but cramped, the penmanship of a knight with the impatience of a sellsword.

Another knock. 

“Come,” he said, not quite looking up from his work

“Are you having a moment, my love?” Petra’s soft voice reached his ears, and he perked up immediately. She was in her rarely-abandoned hunter’s garb, but went unarmed. As his face lit up, she offered him a gentle, confident smile. She’d taken to calling him _ my love _ in place of _ professor _, although many of the others couldn’t shake the habit.

“Of course I am,” he said, putting everything down and rising from his seat. 

“That is good,” she said as she crossed the threshold and went to him. “When I heard you were shutting yourself in your room, I was thinking you might be busy...or sleeping.” 

Byleth chuckled. “Why is it everyone thinks I’m turning into Linhardt? I pass out after a battle _ one time _-”

“It is being two times,” Petra corrected him, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Once when your hair was changing color. And again after we took the victory over The Immaculate One.” She stroked her thumb across his cheekbone. “And Seteth was telling me how you are wandering the halls at night. I am worried that you are pushing yourself until you collapse.”

Byleth returned her embrace, his hands settling on her waist. This level of physical contact was still unfamiliar to them, but they were getting used to it. “Now, who does that remind you of, Petra? Five years ago, you did the same thing.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do not be changing the subject on me. I am learning from my mistakes, because you are pointing them out to me. If I am to be your wife, it is being my job to do the same.”

“You win,” Byleth laughed. “I promise, I’m getting enough sleep. Did you come just to scold me?”

“I am grateful for your promise,” said Petra, pulling him in for a kiss. “And no,” she spoke against his lips. “I am not coming just to scold you.”

Unable to suppress a grin, Byleth pressed closer, running his hands up her back where her midriff was exposed, feeling the heat of her skin. But before the kiss could progress much further, Petra backed away teasingly.

“I am not here just for kissing either,” she explained. “I am wondering if now is a good time to be showing you my prayer marks. You were expressing interest in them?”

A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. Byleth adjusted the front of his coat. “Yes! Yes, absolutely. That was a while ago, wasn’t it?”

“We were never having the chance back then,” Petra said. “And since you will be seeing them eventually…” Color rose to her cheeks. She was rarely shy, but it only highlighted her beauty. Nonetheless, her body language still spoke of her boundless confidence.

It was not the prospect of disrobing before him that embarrassed her, perhaps, but the implication that she would one day do so as a married couple. Byleth knew that, in Brigid, one’s modesty was of less concern than the more conservative mainland tradition - partly because of the climate, and partly because of its deep cultural roots in communal living, naturalism, and outdoorsmanship.

“I have no objections,” he said. “Now is as good a time as any we’ve gotten so far. Where do you want me?”

Petra smiled. “You may be standing where you are now.” With that, she bent down to unclasp her boots and slide them off, standing barefoot on the rug. She unceremoniously reached under her skirt and peeled down the hose she wore to protect her legs from her wyvern’s saddle, revealing much of her thigh that had previously gone unseen.

Byleth leaned back against the front of his desk, gripping the edge for support.

Next came the knee-high sock and ceremonial garter on her left leg, which she placed on a nearby chair rather than adding to the pile on the floor. The fact that his fiancée’s clothes were being strewn about his room was not lost on Byleth. In fact, as she removed her cape, he realized that any intellectual curiosity he’d been motivated by in the past was now becoming difficult to maintain.

Not because he was no longer interested in Brigidian culture. Far from it; he had more reason to learn than ever. No, it was just that now certain parts of him were finding it much more interesting to ogle at his wife-to-be.

Petra removed her leather pauldron and the archer’s vambrace she wore, sliding off the multitude of bracelets that adorned her elegant, toned forearms. She lifted the beads she wore around her neck over her head, followed by unwrapping the sash around her waist. Both were deposited on the chair with great reverence and care.

It was then that she turned her back to him, taut muscles dimpling as she stretched, and loosened her top. Her long hair fell in front of her hands for a moment. Byleth found himself craning his neck and caught himself, imagining Jeralt’s heavy hand on his shoulder. _ Don’t stare, kid. _

When Petra turned around, her bare breasts in full view, he thought that imagining his father in the room hadn’t been such a good idea. Not to mention it was the last thing he wanted to focus on right now.

The copper tone of her skin didn’t stop beneath her clothes, which led him to believe it was either natural or that she sunbathed naked (another intriguing thought. Perhaps she did anyway.) What captured his attention the most, though, were the purple tattoos that arced across her ribs, crossing underneath her chest and diverting along her breastbone to the edge of her left shoulder. 

The marks on her face and upper right arm he was familiar with, but this one was new. His eyes were drawn to its lines and curves, like rolling waves and feathered wings all at once, and how they seemed to cradle her breasts, guiding his eyes to the darker points of her nipples. Had it been painful to have it done? Embarrassing even despite the freeness of body her people enjoyed? It certainly must have required patience. 

The top of another mark peeked out above the waistband of her skirt, where previously it had been hidden by her sash. As he watched, entranced, Petra hooked her thumbs at the top and slid it down her long legs, its bangles striking dissonant notes as she stepped out of it. How could someone barely over five feet tall have legs that seemed to go on forever?

Byleth’s eyes traveled shamelessly back up her legs to where the mark coiled around her hip, crossing her belly just below her navel. It was blockier and more defined in shape than the others, its lines thicker. They seemed almost to indicate the space between her legs, where a thatch of dark hair disappeared into her thighs as long as she held them this close together. Without her hose, apparently, under the skirt she was bare.

Goddess, he’d never be able to focus in battle again.

Petra shifted her weight, bringing an arm up under her chest while the other hung loosely at her side. Her blush had deepened under the intensity of his gaze, but her shy smile hadn’t faltered.

“You know the mark I am having on my face,” she began. “That is for the Spirit of Fire. It is offering prowess in combat, but fire is not bringing only destruction. It is giving us light and warmth. It allows the forest to be reborn.”

Byleth nodded. The fire spirit was the one he heard Petra pray to the most, although she had conspicuously left it out of her vows when he proposed. Much as he tried to keep his eyes on her face, he found them drifting to the mark he knew she would explain next, on her arm, and then across her chest. Now the voice in his head was not Jeralt’s (thankfully), but his own. _ Stop objectifying her and pay attention, you fool! _

Petra indicated the band that encircled her upper arm, spidery zigzags traveling across the inner ring. “This is being for the Spirit of Wind, which is giving us freedom and swiftness. Hunters are favoring it for that reason. It is also...from where we are receiving divine protection.”

All this was in line with what she’d spoken before, but the nuances were previously unknown to him. Byleth focused, trying to absorb all he could. It was important that he learn and remember these details; they would become part of his life, as would the Brigid language one day.

“This first mark on my body is for the spirit of water,” Petra continued. She didn’t miss Byleth leaning forward suddenly, and covered her mouth with a giggle. “Are you having difficulty focusing?”

Byleth flinched and shook his head. “No, no. Please continue.”

Eyes still sparkling with mirth, Petra drew her hand across her collarbone, tracing the outline of the mark where it reached her shoulder. “The Spirit of Water is where we are finding kindness, fortune, and good health, but also our fates, because we must have mindfulness of its currents.”

Captivated, Byleth watched as her hand descended to her belly, where she splayed her fingers over the final mark. “And this is for the Spirit of Earth, where we are looking to for guidance, steadfastness, growth, and fertility.” 

All self-consciousness was gone from her gentle smile now, and Byleth thought that she had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes met his warmly, and she cocked her head.

“Are you having questions?”

Byleth stood free of the desk, reaching out his hand hesitantly. “...May I?”

Petra blinked slowly. “Yes.”

Stepping toward her with the same reverence as he would a statue of the saints, he slowly brought his fingers in contact with her skin, on her bare shoulder just below the summit of the Water Spirit’s mark. Petra seemed to shiver, and he felt gooseflesh form under his touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked quietly.

Petra shook her head. “No,” she said, and then paused. “But...I am thinking that maybe you are overheated?” A blush had returned to her cheeks, but now there was pure _ want _behind her eyes, emboldened by his closeness. The two of them shared in the stillness of the moment, as the tension that had been building steadily in the room reached its peak.

Before they could find out who would make a move first, there was _ another _knock on the door, this one louder and more polite than Petra’s.

“Professor!” Seteth’s voice easily penetrated the door, carrying with it the sparing restraint from outright saying _ Your Majesty _. Byleth had insisted that he wasn’t king yet; he hadn’t accepted the position, and in any case, Seteth should never call him anything but his name. “Professor, are you there?”

Byleth cast Petra an urgent look. There was no time to stew in their mutual disappointment if they were interested in keeping their engagement secret for the time being. She began to redress as quickly and quietly as possible, while Byleth cleared his throat and went to the door.

“Just a moment!” he said, doing his best to hide the irritation in his voice. When he turned back to Petra, she was climbing out the window into the field outside the stables. As she darted out of sight, Byleth smoothed the front of his coat and opened the door.

Seteth nodded at him briskly. “Professor. I am sorry to trouble you, but Rhea is awake, and she is asking for you.”

Byleth’s frown turned serious. “Thank you, Seteth. Let’s go right away.”

As he stepped down from the doorway, Seteth peered over his shoulder. “Is your window open, professor?”

Cursing internally, Byleth glanced back, feigning dim surprise. “So it is, Seteth. So it is.”


	2. Heat of the Moment

Peace and quiet were hard to come by these days, but Byleth had come to the bathhouse at the right time tonight. No one else was using the public area of the onsen, which meant that he had several cubic yards of water and steam all to himself.

He sank under the surface, the heat easing his tense joints, and sat back against the edge of the deck. He hadn’t had the privilege to sit and think for a while, and wanted nothing more than to submerge with his thoughts for a good while. But first, he had to get used to the temperature.

That wouldn’t stop his ruminations, of course.

He hadn’t _ quite _ lied when he told Petra that he was getting enough sleep. The truth was, he was in the process of fixing his sleep schedule, so he did indeed go to bed on time. Now, rather than wandering the halls _ before _surrendering to a fitful sleep, he was awakened constantly by nightmares, after which he took up his aforementioned wandering once again.

Byleth had seen his fair share of terrible sights. Many times, he’d flickered time with Divine Pulse when one of his friends was killed on the battlefield. Most of the time, he was able to prevent it. Other times, like Jeralt, death seemed to come for them one way or the other.

He wondered if saving Edelgard at their first meeting had doomed her to die, by his hand, all those years later. 

Her last words still haunted him to this day. Even before that, when they met on what would have been the Millenium Festival - the pain in her eyes as they dueled, one last lesson before war made them truly enemies. Hubert would not leave him either. 

They’d been the only ones he couldn’t save.

Then had been the countless lives lost to the Shambhallans, Rhea nearly one of them. It was comforting that she had survived; succeeded in protecting him and the others. 

But now she seemed ailing and fragile. She had confided in him the day before, when Seteth brought him her summons, that she was no longer certain she could fulfill her duties as archbishop.

_ That _was why Seteth wanted him to be king. And Rhea, for the record, didn’t seem to disagree. 

Byleth didn’t want to lead the church as archbishop, if he ruled at all. A miter wasn’t his look, and Edelgard’s betrayal had taught him one thing - if Fódlan was to move forward united, the church and state would need to be separate. 

However, that wasn’t the main problem. He knew that he _ could _ do it. He just wasn’t certain he _ wanted _to. Or, indeed, if it was the right thing to do. 

Kingship hadn’t gone particularly well for poor Dimitri. Claude might have some insights about running a more partisan government, but he was still missing. Cyril had gone to Almyra looking for him.

Byleth sighed. This was a dangerous line of thinking. If he brooded any longer, someone might notice, and he needed to focus on his duties. Focus on the others.

He leaned forward and let his head dip beneath the water, hoping the temperature shock would help ward off his anxiety and regret. 

Listening to the water with his eyes closed grounded him. It reminded him of Sothis’s dais. He still missed her sometimes, but he never forgot that she was still part of him. That, and she had trusted him to make the right decisions. 

He had to believe the goddess had been right about him.

A strange noise echoed through the onsen, muffled by the water. Byleth sat up, breaching the surface, and looked over his shoulder, dripping from his hair and nose. The door had opened, and Petra had walked in.

She was dressed in simple two-piece swimwear, leaving some - but not much - to the imagination. It was black and sleek and complimented her form nicely. A towel was draped over her arm.

Byleth was immediately made aware of his equal state of undress, clad only in the trunks he wore when he and Alois went boatfishing (this being his custom since Alois had capsized their canoe on their first 'expedition'). He shook water from his ears and raised a hand to her in greeting.

“Your face has much seriousness,” Petra said with a concerned frown. “Are you worrying?”

Of course, she could see right through him. “Only a bit,” he said. “It’s nothing urgent, or quite so serious as a war, so worrying like this is something of a luxury.” Tapping the deck by his shoulder, he scooted over. “Come join me?”

“It would give me gladness to be joining you,” she said, setting down her towel and sliding into the water beside him. “I do not have understanding. Why are you saying that to worry is luxuriousness?”

Byleth settled next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. "I guess because what I have to worry about now isn't as bad as before."

Petra's frown deepened in thought. "That is making no sense. Just because your worries are being different does not mean they have less greatness." 

The ends of her hair were caught in the water, tickling his arm. Byleth shrugged. "You raise a good point. Maybe I only feel the need to put such things in perspective to make myself feel better about the present."

"At war, things were feeling much more simple," she said. "But now, I am having to make hard decisions very quickly, and so are you, about Fódlan's future. It is not making me feel better." 

Byleth wasn't sure what to say. Did Petra regret her decision to abdicate and remain in Fódlan with him? Had she given any thought to the rulership, and would whether he accepted or not change how she felt?

Petra looked up at him and smiled. "Being here with _ you _is what is making me feel better." 

Faced with overwhelming force, Byleth's doubts melted away. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "It makes me feel better, too."

They stayed like that for a while before Petra reached up and ran the back of her hand along the side of his throat. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers, covering her hand with his own. She laced their fingers together and squeezed.

That was about all Byleth could take. He leaned in and kissed her.

Petra hummed into his mouth, pressing forward for more. She wasn't teasing this time; her lips fiercely chasing his own as she turned to face him and mounted his lap, disturbing the water.

Byleth ran his hands up her back, tracing lines of water droplets, uninterrupted now except for the thin band that secured her top. He felt her bite his lower lip and gasped, groaning as she seized the opening to slip her tongue against his.

Petra's fingers threaded in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp. The edge of the deck had begun digging into his back, but he didn't care, _ couldn't _care any less, because she was rocking her hips in his lap, grinding down onto his erection.

When she noticed it poking insistently at her thigh, she let out a gasp of her own and broke the kiss, looking down at him with lidded eyes. 

Byleth panted, sure his blush rivalled hers. "Ah...sorry."

“Do not have shame,” Petra said. “I do not mind.” She shifted in his lap, bringing his cock directly in contact with her core. A strangled hiss escaped her as she rolled her hips experimentally. 

It was all Byleth could do not to buck up underneath her and send them both into the water. Electricity seemed to spark between them; all _ heat _ and _ pleasure _ and _ need, _ and his trunks were clinging to him, far too tight.

“Shall we-” he said, voice breaking as Petra continued to ride his lap. “Shall we go somewhere a bit drier?”

Petra hummed again, bringing her chest flush with his to kiss him languidly. “I would be liking that greatly.”

She stood up off him, water running down her legs, and stepped onto the deck, snatching up her towel. As Byleth followed her, she ran it hurriedly around her lower half, then whipped it to the side, eyeing him expectantly.

Feeling a stupid grin rise to his face, he took up his own towel and did the same, but a touch more slowly, appreciating how her gaze tracked his movements. The way she _ looked _ at him, lips parted, face flushed, so _ impatient _\- it made him feel desired in a way he rarely had before.

Darting in to give her a kiss, he pivoted around her and retrieved his clothes, draping his coat over one shoulder and catching her hand with the other. Petra procured her clothes as well, but neglected to put them on as well. There seemed no point. Instead, the two of them walked hand in hand out of the bathhouse.

The air wasn’t as cool or humid as Byleth had expected it to be. It was hot and dry, and something seemed to be on the wind. He coughed, blinking hard. Black snow…

That was _ ash! _

“Petra,” he said, his arousal evaporating in favor of panic.

“I am seeing,” said Petra. “The marketplace!” She pointed across the plaza below, past the rising corner of the dining hall.

An orange-red glow was spreading upward into the sky, embers flickering against the clouds above. Byleth couldn’t tell how big the fire was, or if it was magical in nature, from this distance. All he could see was the edge, foreboding and hungry.

“Come on!” He let go of Petra’s hand so they could run, ignoring the impact of his bare feet on the flagstones. She overtook him quickly, ever the faster runner, but they more or less kept pace on their way down the outer stairs and through the gardens.

Thankfully, nowhere else in the monastery had been touched by the flames. However, _ outside _the walls of Garreg Mach was a different story.

Down in the sandy lot where the marketplace stood was a raging inferno that continued through the village nearby. Several buildings were blackening and beginning to collapse, smoke rising like great pillars. People were running and screaming. It was impossible to make sense of the chaos.

“I am calling Lili!” Petra shouted over the roar. 

Byleth nodded. If her wyvern could get here quickly, they could soar above the fire and get a sense of their surroundings.

“Professor!” Someone called.

Between two ruined stalls, Catherine was helping an injured merchant to safety. She pulled him toward Byleth and Petra, passing him to another knight and swatting at the smoldering ends of her ponytail. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “This is a mess. Some of your students have turned up to help, you should give them instructions.”

One of the supply shed’s roof collapsed behind them with an earsplitting _ crack. _

Byleth forestalled Catherine with a hand on her shoulder. “Do we know what caused this? Was it the Shambhallans? An Imperial Remnant?”

Catherine shook her head. “No. As far as we know, it was an accident.”

He looked out at the village, burning on a scale he’d have never thought possible. “An accident…”

“It is being windy,” Petra said. “In the dry season, fire is spreading much farther.” She pulled on her boots as quickly as she could. “We must be going into the village!”

“Let’s go,” Byleth said, following suit. If he burned his feet, he would become another liability. Petra went ahead of him, once again leaving him scrambling to catch up.

They ran through the marketplace outside the wall, passing many knights and townspeople who were dragging each other to safety. A few people had gathered at the perimeter: he spotted Linhardt, Caspar, and Dorothea.

“Report!” he barked, nearly skidding to a stop in front of them.

“Bernadetta and Ferdinand went inside!” Dorothea said. “They should be out any minute now, but they said people were still trapped in the storehouse!”

Caspar was struggling with the door of a shed parked right up against the wall. Swearing emphatically, he gave it a swift kick and rammed his shoulder into it, knocking it off the hinges. “Buckets!” he said. “Come on, let’s get a chain started!”

Byleth waved over a group of knights and pointed to Caspar. “Do as he says!” He turned to the rest of them. “Dorothea, use Thoron and try to provoke rain! Linhardt, stand by to treat the wounded. Petra-”

Before he could finish, one of the storehouse’s wings exploded, launching splinters of wood and fragments of stone into the air. A moment later, Ferdinand and Bernadetta emerged, supporting a soot-stained, unconscious Anna between them.

“Help!” Ferdinand called, waving. “Someone help!”

Byleth ran to them, with Petra close behind. At first he thought Ferdinand wanted him to take Anna, but the young noble motioned back to the storehouse. 

“We found her trying to shield a child in the back corner, but we couldn’t get to him in time! He ran up the stairs to escape the flames; he’s still inside!” 

Byleth’s coat was ripped from his grasp as Petra tore past him, heading straight for the remains of the storehouse wall. She pulled it on to protect herself as she went.

“Petra, wait!” Byleth called after her, but it was no use. She’d disappeared into the flames. He urged Ferdinand and Bernadetta on. “You two go!”

A deep, reptilian keen echoed over the burning village. Petra’s wyvern had arrived, clearing the wall with a single flap of her wings and gliding down to where Byleth stood. She looked at Byleth, then around him, as if searching for Petra.

“Inside,” Byleth said. “She’s inside, Lili!” At the sound of her name, Lili focused on him, and he gestured above the storehouse. “There!”

Lili snorted and took to the sky.

Unsure if he’d made himself understood, Byleth cursed and ran to the storehouse, clambering over the fallen timbers that decorated the broken wall. 

The air was thick, choking him with smoke; the heat oppressive, nothing like the soothing warmth of the onsen. This was the duality of Petra's spirit, life-giving, but life-taking.

Much of the storehouse's contents had caught fire, leaving a maze of flaming barrels and hay bales to navigate. The stone walls were hot, but safer around the edges, and the support beams were holding for now.

Byleth saw Petra on a rickety staircase near the other end, reaching her arms out to a huddled shape at the top. The flames were on the second floor too, crowding in on the landing, but the boy must have been too paralyzed with fear to move.

One of the rafters cracked, bringing his eyes to the roof. It was _ right over the stairs- _

"Petra!" Byleth yelled as it began to fall.

Petra leapt up the stairs, rolling to safety next to the boy as the damaged rafter fell from the ceiling, crashing through the center of the stairs. Now they were in two halves, with a fiery gap in the middle.

Gathering the boy into her arms, Petra stepped out onto the stairs, gauging how far she would have to jump. Soon she would conclude what Byleth already suspected - that she couldn't make it while carrying someone else.

Byleth made his way over to them, dodging more debris. The smoke was making his eyes water, sparks peppering his bare skin like needles. 

"Petra, it's coming down!" He said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "You need to come one at a time, but quickly!"

Petra could barely hear him most likely, but she nodded. "Him first!" She thrust out the boy, who seemed familiar - the blacksmith's son? - and made ready to toss him.

Byleth tried to get better footing. "On three!" He said, glancing up at the roof. It looked like another section was about to fall.

"One!" 

A rafter closer to the broken wall collapsed in a hiss of sparks.

"Two!"

The boy, frozen in terror, stared wide-eyed at Byleth.

"It's alright," he said, putting on the best smile he could. "Three!" 

Petra coiled like a spring and launched the boy across the gap. Byleth stretched out his arms and caught him, staggering under his weight. He was small enough to be carried, but he was no infant, maybe six or seven. With a yelp, he buried his face in Byleth's shoulder.

"See, you're alright, I've got you," Byleth said, patting his back. He jerked his head at Petra, backing off the stairs to plan their escape. "Now you!"

Petra stepped onto the edge of the broken stairs, but stumbled as the building shook. Still clutching the child, Byleth saw another rafter come loose and begin to fall.

As he opened his mouth to cry out, it hit Petra's head with a sickening _ crunch. _

_ No! _

Purple blossomed in front of his eyes, and he felt the familiar buoyancy in his stomach as the hands of time went backward. On instinct, just as when Jeralt had died, he had used Divine Pulse instantaneously.

But this time would be different.

Time resumed. Petra stepped forward, stumbled again. 

"Down!" Byleth shouted his throat hoarse. "Get down!"

Without looking up, Petra dropped into a crouch, twisting to the side as the beam fell. One end of it collided with her shoulder, and with a grunt of pain, she lost her footing completely and fell from the stairs.

_ No, no, no! _

Another Divine Pulse was already forming on his fingertips when a blur of scales and claws shot through the broken roof. Lili grabbed Petra's arm in her talons and bellowed, buffeting the flames with her wings to stay aloft.

Petra cried out, voice tight with pain. "Lili, eitilt! Eitilt ar shiúl!”

With a shriek, Lili carried Petra out the way she had come, knocking more of the roofing loose on her exit.

Relief washed over Byleth, but this wasn’t over yet. He still needed to get the child in his arms to safety.

The wall was still open, but the floor above it was buckling, on the verge of total collapse. It would be maybe a few seconds before they were trapped. 

He held the boy close to his chest and ran, shutting his eyes to the smoke. He didn’t need to see. He just needed to be fast enough.

Wind roared in his ears as he cleared the smoke, punctuated by the rumbling crash of the wall coming down behind them. Hands grabbed his arms, pulling the boy away and steadying him as he let out the breath he’d been holding, knees wobbling from the effort of his sprint.

He opened his eyes.

Shamir and Catherine were holding him up. Alois had the blacksmith's son and was barreling through the burning streets, making a beeline for the healers.

“Byleth!” Shamir was shouting. “Are you alright!”

“I’m fine,” he coughed. “Where’s Petra!”

“Her wyvern took her!” Catherine said. “She’s with Linhardt and the others!”

Byleth shook free and looked back at the village. “Is that all the survivors?”

“We think so!” said Shamir. “Dorothea’s been blasting the clouds for the past three minutes! If anything’s going to happen, it’ll be now!”

As if on cue, thunder rolled above them. 

Byleth forced himself to accept these terms. “Let’s go!” Still coughing, he ran for the gap in the wall, the two knights flanking him as he went. 

The storehouse folded in on itself behind them.

Lili the wyvern was in a heap on the ground next to Linhardt, who was stooped over Petra, seated in the middle of the road and cradling her arm. She had pulled back Byleth’s coat to expose it, but even now was shooing Linhardt away.

“I am not needing magic!” she argued as Byleth reached them. “There are being many others needing it more greatly!”

Byleth tore past Linhardt and fell to his knees, throwing his arms around Petra. He couldn’t exactly explain that he’d seen her die, so he poured it into his body, holding her as tightly as he was able.

“Ah!” Petra squirmed. “My love, you are hurting me!”

Byleth pulled back. “What? Are you wounded?”

“Her arm,” Linhardt said, frowning mildly. “It was dislocated during her flight, and her shoulder is badly burned.”

Fixing her with a stern look, Byleth held onto her good shoulder gently. “Is that true?”

“I have the re-setting my dislocation,” Petra said, losing more grammar in her frustration.

“You reinserted it incorrectly.” Linhardt said helpfully. “If you want to recover, please let me look at it, even if you won’t let me use magic.”

Petra relaxed with a huff and allowed him to gingerly take her arm in both hands. Now Byleth could see the ugly burn on her shoulder - shiny and red, with a few scraps of his coat still stuck to her skin. 

He almost protested that she let herself be healed completely, but then he saw the obvious signs of fatigue on Linhardt’s face and thought better of it. He, Manuela, and the other physicians were likely being pushed to their limits, and it was ultimately Petra’s decision.

Linhardt turned her wrist and thrust it back into her shoulder sharply, massaging the joint as Petra winced. “There. Now it can heal properly on its own. Please be careful with it for the next few days, and let me bandage that burn before you go.”

Lili let out a very human-like moan from where she was perched behind them. Petra turned and reached up to caress her snout. “I am sorry, friend. I was not meaning to push you so hard.”

Byleth put his hand on Linhardt’s shoulder. “I’ll tend to her. You go on, help the others so you can get some rest.”

Linhardt nodded gratefully. “Take care, professor.” He straightened, taking long strides toward the next group of knights and survivors.

Petra, still soothing Lili, looked back at Byleth. “I am owing you an apology, too.”

“What?” Byleth took her hand, fishing around for the bandages and burn cream Linhardt had left behind. “What for?”

As he slathered it onto her shoulder, she bit her lower lip and looked away. “Because...your coat is being ruined.”

Byleth paused. He was relieved, so _relieved_ to have her back, and she was worried about his coat! 

To his surprise, a laugh bubbled up from inside of him and flew from his lips, ringing out across the monastery walls.

With that, the first drops of rain began to fall.


	3. Motivation

“Easy, now,” Byleth said as Petra grimaced and nursed her shoulder for the fifth time.

“I am having difficulty,” she said, sulking on the bed. “I am using this arm without meaning to.”

He had returned from the village some time after sending her off to rest, staying to help coordinate the relief effort and put out what was left of the flames. It had taken almost two hours more to get them under control, and even now parts of the wreckage were still smoldering.

Seteth had enlisted his help, along with Shamir, to conduct an investigation of the supposed origin point - a fleet of old supply carts that had been parked next to a trash heap. The running theory was that old explosives, from the initial defense of Garreg Mach, had been improperly disposed of.

Byleth still wasn’t ready to call it a complete accident, but at the very least it didn’t look like an outside attack. Arson was the only probable premeditated cause, but without a suspect, it would only incite a panic to call it as such, and there was no verifiable proof.

So, he had come back to his room, exhausted, to find that Petra had let herself in. Of course, he had no complaints, and he was glad to spare her the walk to her own quarters. 

That, and keeping close to her would quell his leftover worry.

“We could always find you a sling,” he suggested. “I’m sure Manuela has one.”

Petra pursed her lips. “Maybe on tomorrow. I am having much tiredness.”

Byleth smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. “I am, too. That was...not how I expected to spend the night.”

“No,” Petra agreed. She laid her good hand on his leg. “...are you being upset with me, my love?”

He blinked. “About my coat? I already told you that didn’t matter.”

She shook her head. “For my running into danger. I was knowing you would not like it, and still…”

Byleth thought for a moment. It was true that he could have been angry with her, admonished her for her reckless behavior, but how could he do that in good conscience when she had saved a life? 

Adding to that, he wasn’t her teacher anymore. He’d always been more of a friend to his students, given their closeness in age, but he’d enjoyed the privilege to critique and give them orders the way no friend could. If he was to carry on an adult relationship with them, he would have to relinquish some of that.

Especially where Petra was concerned. He was supposed to be her partner in all things. Even if he were made king, she would be his queen, and he had never considered anything but joint rulership.

So he would choose to focus on the positive outcome, rather than a lecture about the potential consequences - consequences _he_ had thwarted by turning back time. Did that mean his power was license to throw their lives away? Of course not. But it meant he could let Petra be on this matter, since she already understood that he might be upset.

“It was a noble thing you did,” Byleth said. “I’m glad, not upset. Not anymore. We didn’t have time to communicate or plan, so I can’t call the risk you took needless.” He took her hand in his. “I’m just thankful you’re still with me.”

“Thank _ you, _ my love,” Petra said quietly. “It is meaning much that you have understanding.”

They sat in silence, breathing in the moment. Only hours ago, they’d been in a crisis. It was distinctly surreal, but something they’d gotten familiar with over many battles.

“You spoke Brigidian today,” Byleth said suddenly. “I rarely get the chance to hear that.”

“Oh,” Petra said, and blushed. “I am speaking it with Lili all the time, so she has good understanding.”

Byleth squeezed her hand and rose, beginning to undress. “I’ve been thinking that I should learn,” he said, stepping out of his boots. “You can teach me, if you like, but if you’d rather not, I can-”

Petra made a delighted noise. “Of course! I would be having much joy to teach you.” 

“Alright, then.” He smiled at her, pulling on a loose shirt and braise to sleep in. “When we get the chance, maybe you can start me on a phrase or two.”

She sat up straighter as he came back to the bed. “Would you like to be learning something now?”

This time, instead of sitting to the side, Byleth crawled up next to her in the pool of blankets she’d commandeered. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Is breá liom tú,” Petra said simply. Her voice didn’t _ change _, precisely, but she sounded huskier, an almost rustic lilt to her delivery. It was beautiful.

“Is breá liom tú,” he echoed haltingly, the picture of a diligent student. “And that means?”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” said Byleth, pecking her on the nose. “But you still haven’t told me what it means.”

Petra burst into giggles. “That is being what it means!”

“_ What _ is?” he insisted, feigning disillusionment as he pulled her closer for more kisses. She was almost laughing too hard to get at her lips, but neither of them cared. As soon as she began to calm down, Byleth tickled up her sides, prompting another giggle fit.

It wasn’t long before she took back control, pressing into him and capturing his lips, slow and hungry. But as they parted for air, she gasped, recoiling and grabbing at her arm.

“I am sorry,” said Petra, through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be,” Byleth said. He helped her lean back against the headboard. “Is it the burn troubling you, or just your shoulder?”

“It is both,” she said. “But it is not yet time for changing my bandages, so I must be enduring it.” 

Byleth frowned. If it was going to keep her awake, he would rather convince her to have it healed. But the medics had been working around the clock, and were likely either still treating victims of the fire or resting themselves. Better to bring it up in the morning and trust Petra to get the rest she needed.

He slid under the covers and rested his head on the pillow, holding his arms out to her. “Come here.”

Petra did so more carefully than he had, nestling her back against his chest. He felt her toes skim his legs and the curve of her rear bump against his thighs as she settled into the mattress. Like this, her injured arm was elevated, and they could keep it above their bodies so nothing jostled it.

Sliding his arm under her waist, Byleth murmured, “Better?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I am thinking my hair is too much in your face.”

He chuckled. “It’s not so bad.” Running his fingers through it a few times, he freed what strands were pinned between her and the pillow, and draped them as neatly as possible between them. Then he relaxed and pulled her close.

They had never really shared a bed before, although sleeping or napping in close proximity had certainly happened during the war, always on the move. Byleth was pleased that he didn’t feel nervous. 

He was just happy to be holding her in his arms.

His hand rested on the toned firmness of her stomach, feeling each push and pull of her breath. The corresponding rush of air as it left her lips was the only sound in the room now, cocooning him like a second blanket.

“My love.”

Byleth woke to sunlight poking between the curtains. He wasn’t sure how long it had taken him to fall asleep.

Petra was sitting in the chair a few feet away, topless. She had several feet of linen wound around her upper body and hanging loose. It appeared she’d already dressed her wound herself, but was having trouble following through on the bandages.

“I am sorry to wake you,” she said. “But I am needing your assistance.”

Levering himself up, Byleth slid off the bed and padded over to her, taking the ends of the cloth in his hands and going to work, shaking the sleep from his clumsy fingers. 

‘You could have woken me earlier,” he chided.

Petra held still, but tapped her foot idly. “You were looking so peaceful. I could not bear to be disturbing you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled the ends of the bandage tight. “There. You’re all done.”

With his permission to move, she swiveled around in her seat and pulled him down for a proper good-morning kiss. It perhaps didn’t taste the absolute best, but the sleepy slowness had its own appeal. 

Enough for Byleth to move around in front of her and tug her to her feet, bringing her bare chest flush against his. He’d so wanted to pick up where they left off in the onsen, and even if that wasn’t possible with her injury, he wanted to show her all the affection he could.

Petra didn’t seem to care about coddling her shoulder, though. With a needy moan, she slid her hands under his shirt, rubbing indulgently across his chest. Her fingers were cool and soft.

But her mouth was hot, and as it moved down his jawline to his neck, Byleth shivered, inhaling sharply. Each lave of her tongue and rake of her teeth was as unexpected as it was pleasurable. From this alone, he was growing harder by the second.

“Byleth,” Petra murmured breathlessly. “I am _ wanting _you.”

“_ Goddess, _ Petra,” Byleth marveled as she gently pushed him backward onto the bed. He held onto her hips as she mounted him, just like she had in the bathhouse, only now he was flat on his back and treated to a full view of her athletic body hanging above him.

That was, until she hiked the hem of his shirt up and leaned down to resume kissing and biting him, this time along his chest and stomach.

“Ah!” he gasped at the wet sensation dragging along his abs.

“Are you liking this?” Petra pressed a kiss just below his navel and looked up at him adoringly, playing at the waistband of his braise with nimble fingertips. “Would you be liking me to do more for you?”

Byleth reached down to touch her face with a groan, his cock heavy and hot where it was trapped between them. “I would like to be doing more for _ you. _”

“You can be touching me in any way you want,” she said shyly, sliding up his body until their noses bumped.

Cupping her rear in two generous handfuls, Byleth squeezed as he brought her in for a kiss, this time taking a leaf from her book and biting furtively at her lip. Petra let out an _ Mm! _of surprise and rocked back into his touch, ‘coincidentally’ rubbing along his length as she did so.

He couldn’t suppress a moan in kind, which had Petra pulling back, eyes lit up excitedly as she repeated the maneuver. This time, his hips moved in tandem with hers, bringing them together in a delicious grind...

_ Grrroooooooowwwwwwwlllll. _

Petra froze, a flush no longer entirely from arousal blooming on her cheeks. Byleth, nonplussed, stared up at her, his mouth falling open.

_ Grrrrooooooooooowwwwwwwllllllllll…. _

“Are you-” Byleth stifled a laugh. “Are you hungry?”

“...Maybe,” Petra said evasively. “But I am wanting you more. I do not mind waiting.” She leaned down eagerly to kiss him again, but hissed as she, out of habit, put weight on her bad arm.

Byleth sat up, easing her back to a sitting position. “There, now. You alright?”

She blew her bangs up, frustrated. “I am thinking I will see Linhardt after breakfast.” 

This was new. Petra was someone who knew her limits, but it wasn’t like her to admit defeat over something like this. Byleth was relieved that it hadn’t taken more convincing (he’d been considering bringing it up again now that the healers wouldn’t be so busy) but still curious about her decision.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked, rubbing his thumb along her lower back.

Petra looked up at him with naked desire. “I am wanting to be ravishing you properly.”

“Oh,” Byleth said softly, feeling a rush of heat to his face and groin. “Shall we - shall we get breakfast, then?”

Petra seemed to study him for a second, and then a knowing smile spread across her face. “Yes,” she said contentedly. “I am in agreement.”

“I am, too,” he said quickly. “In agreement. About the ravishing, not about breakfast-”

She silenced him with a kiss, calmer than all the others, sweet and long and full of promise.

_ GrOOWWLLL! _

“Ah!” Petra pulled away, red as a brick. “We should be getting dressed!” 

She slid off his lap and fished around for something to wear, but found only what she had worn the night before - her swimsuit, the smoke-damaged outfit she’d dropped, and Byleth’s ruined coat.

She turned back to him. “I...am sorry, but...I may be needing something of yours to wear.”

“I don’t mind,” Byleth said, swinging his feet onto the floor. He opened his armoire and picked out a tunic and trousers for her, along with a cloth belt to tighten the fit. While she got dressed, he donned his academy uniform, but didn’t bother with the jacket, dagger, or hat.

What was the point, after all, if he was just going to take them off after breakfast?


	4. A Moment Alone

“I must say, Bernadetta,” Ferdinand said at the breakfast table. “We seem to have outdone ourselves.”

“_ You two _ made this?” Caspar froze with his mouth full. “Okay, Bernie I can believe, but Ferdinand too?”

“We felt bad because we had to sit out after breathing in too much smoke,” Bernadetta said, her voice still a little scratchy. “So we whipped this up for everyone. I hope it tastes okay!”

It was like a blast from the past for the Black Eagles to be eating together all at once. Byleth and Petra had joined them just as Dorothea had arrived, and Linhardt showed up a bit later, still yawning.

Some things change, Byleth thought, and some things never do.

Ferdinand was tossing his long hair back. “Don’t act so surprised, Caspar. I might have many things to teach you about the art of cooking.”

“Yeah, right,” Caspar slurped up another bite and jabbed his fork in the air. “‘Cause Bernadetta was helping you.” 

“You both did a fine job,” Byleth said, getting another spoonful and offering it to Petra.

She leaned forward and took it in her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. Byleth tried not to enjoy it too much. He tried. She was adorable, and it would have been even more erotic in private.

“Do you two _ mind? _” Linhardt said, raising his eyebrows. “The rest of us are trying to eat.” He had casually been holding Caspar’s hand since he sat down, but neither of them was acting as if they noticed. 

Dorothea had pulled her chocolate brown hair into a messy up-do, but her makeup was already done, even this early in the morning. “I don’t know, I’m kind of enjoying this.” Byleth and Petra each gave her a look, and she blew them a kiss. “I was rooting for you, you know.”

Yes, maybe Seteth didn’t have to know, but it was useless to try hiding their engagement from their friends. There were virtually no secrets between the Black Eagles anymore, and they seldom kept up the pretense of privacy. 

“Thanks for the support, Dorothea.” Byleth continued feeding Petra. “Come on, let’s finish that plate.”

“I could just heal you _ before _you eat, you know,” Linhardt addressed Petra directly.

“Yes,” she said happily. “But this is giving me more fun!” 

“No one needs to stay back on our account,” Byleth said. “I know you all have business to attend to.”

“Sure,” said Bernadetta. “But it’s nice to see everyone okay after last night! It was really scary.” She fiddled with one of her earrings. Coming out of her shell hadn’t made her any less of a worrywart.

“Yeah, but I think we were pretty cool, am I right?” Caspar ran his hand through his undercut and posed with a toothy grin. “Of course I am. I’m gonna go train, though! Who’s with me?”

Everyone coughed and looked to the side, muttering excuses.

Linhardt sighed. “I’ll catch up with you once I’ve taken care of Petra.”

Caspar’s smile never faltered. “Great! Thanks, babe!” He kissed Linhardt on the cheek and rushed out of the dining hall.

Dorothea giggled. “My, my! We’re all amorous this morning, aren’t we?”

“Perhaps it’s something in the air,” Ferdinand said. “I’m off on stable duty. Dorothea, would you be open to tea after this?”

“Certainly,” Dorothea said, blushing a little. Even after a few dates with Ferdinand, his sincerity seemed to keep her quite flustered.

Ferdinand took her hand and kissed it, then strode out with a swirl of his cape. Case in point.

“Oh!” She said brightly. “I don’t want to be late for choir practice. Excuse me, everyone!” And she was off like a shot.

Bernadetta seemed perfectly happy where she was, pulling out some needlework and humming a gentle tune as she pushed aside her plate to manipulate it.

“I can’t help but notice that everyone left their plates behind,” Byleth said, shaking his head. Even after five years, they were still a rowdy bunch in some ways.

“Yes. We must be cleaning up after them once again.” Petra tugged on his sleeve. “More?”

He chuckled. “Goodness, you’re insatiable.” Another spoonful went into her mouth. 

She winked at him. “You are not knowing the half of it.”

As Byleth blushed, Linhardt yawned loudly. “Oh, I’m getting _ so _ sleepy. Could I heal you, please, if you’re going to do that? Sexual tension makes me awfully tired.”

“That is being no good, Linhardt,” Petra said disapprovingly. “You must be saving your energy for your ‘_ training _’ with Caspar later today!” She grinned at him knowingly, then extended her bad arm. “Here, be healing me right away if you are hurrying!”

Linhardt blinked, stifling another, more genuine yawn. “Well played. Allow me, then.” He stood up and walked around the table, hovering his hand over her wound and beginning a spell. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Professor.”

Byleth had been struggling for words as his former students discussed matters of the flesh so openly. He was used to their innuendo, but it was still new when it pertained to dynamics within the group. “I’d only have made a fool of myself.”

“Yep!” Bernadetta chirped. “I know that feeling!” She pulled her needle through the fabric and set it down. “Should I continue this, or should I paint? Ugh, why is this so hard?”

Linhardt finished his spell and patted Petra on the arm. “There. Good as new.”

“Thank you, Linhardt,” Petra said warmly, rolling her shoulder back a few times. She leaned back in her chair. “That is feeling much better.” Picking up the fork Byleth had abandoned, she shoveled her remaining breakfast into her mouth.

Nodding in response, Linhardt yawned again and wandered out of the dining hall. Bernadetta had left while no one was looking, presumably to go paint.

Byleth was content to sit and wait for Petra to finish eating, when he heard a familiar, booming laugh behind him, and a powerful hand slapped him on the back.

“There you are!” Alois said. “We were just looking for you!”

Byleth looked up. His surrogate brother was cheerful as usual, no surprise there, but his stomach dropped when he saw Alois accompanied by Leonie. _ Oh, no. _

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Leonie said.

Byleth kissed Petra on the side of her head and flailed out of his seat, prepared to take off running. “Not a chance! I’m not picking up those debts!” 

“Hey, wait up!” Leonie called after him. “Stop, in the name of your self-proclaimed bodyguard!”

Paying her no heed, Byleth bolted for the door, but pulled up short when he almost ran smack into Manuela and Hanneman, who were up to their usual bickering. 

“This is what I have always tried to tell you!” Hanneman was saying. “You jump to the most negative conclusions before people are even done speaking!”

“And you’re overly judgemental! It’s no wonder I’m on edge when you criticize me!” Manuela snapped. The two of them walked right past Byleth without even noticing his presence.

“Going somewhere?” Leonie asked, from directly behind him.

Byleth sighed and turned around. “Not anymore.”

Alois caught up to them, panting. “Aha! Now, I believe you’ve misunderstood, captain!”

“Not the captain,” Byleth said. “You’re the captain.”

“Er, yes,” Alois said. “Force of habit. In any case, we’ve got some questions for you about how you want the mercenary battalions distributed.”

“And I wouldn’t mind a hand with these logistic sheets,” Leonie said. “Captain Jeralt’s shorthand is really hard to make sense of!” She punched Byleth in the shoulder. “Also, what’s this I hear about you and Petra charging into a burning storehouse in nothing but your swimsuits? Do I need to remind you how important you two are?”

“Alright, alright,” Byleth said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Let’s get the paperwork sorted out, then. I’ve been meaning to reorganize the battalions, anyway. Some of them are causing more trouble than they’re worth; they’ll have to be dismissed.” 

Petra had finished her food and come up to Byleth’s side. “Good morning, Leonie. Alois.”

“Sweet Petra!” Alois bellowed. “Good morning to you!”

“Hey, Petra,” Leonie said. “Maybe _ you _can explain what that little stunt in the storehouse was all about, hmm?”

Cocking her head, Petra brought her index finger to her lips. “Are you meaning our state of undress? We had been coming from the bathhouse. There was being no time.”

Leonie’s expression changed from scolding to devious. “Oh, really? All _ alone...? _”

Before _ that _line of questioning could go any further, Byleth took Leonie’s elbow and steered her around toward Alois. “So, those logistics I left for you. What questions do you have?” He looked at Petra over his shoulder. “Sorry, love, this might take some time.”

“It is alright,” she said. “I am thinking I may go for a flight with Lili. My arm is still in need of stretching.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and headed off toward the aviary.

“Oh, no,” Leonie said. “You’re not getting out of this that easily!” She jabbed her finger in Byleth’s face. “Spill.”

Alois laughed at his expression. “Well, now! Look at you! You’re redder than a Dagdan tomato!”

Byleth pinched the bridge of his nose. Yes, this would definitely take some time.

It was nearly dusk by the time Byleth extricated himself from his duties. 

Leonie and Alois hadn’t been the only ones in need of his direction, and work around the monastery was still in progress from the first attacks. Glass needed to be gathered up from broken windows, rubble needed to be cleared, and restoration needed to continue on the statues of the saints. 

And that didn’t even _ begin _ to touch the damage to the marketplace and surrounding village.

Most of the residential homes were still marginally intact, but a number of storehouses and granaries were completely destroyed, as well as their contents. Supplies would need to be procured to compensate, as well as begin repairs. Not to mention, the merchants and villagers needed a place to sleep in the meantime.

The monastery had the space, but put simply, it didn’t have enough beds, so an order needed to be put in for those. And, in order to house them, the effort to clear obstructions like rubble and broken glass would need to be accelerated.

Byleth put several mercenary battalions to work along with the knights, after dismissing the more unscrupulous conscripts they’d picked up during the war. He had Shamir plan hunting expeditions, to be led by herself and Petra, and got Bernadetta to whip up a revised crop schedule for the greenhouse.

Excusing himself after all that was done, he went up to the ramparts for a breath of fresh air.

He leaned against a crenel and exhaled slowly, taking in the view. While decidedly roughed-up, Garreg Mach was standing strong. Fódlan’s hills turned golden in the sun, flowing into the horizon, promising (he hoped) a bright future.

It seemed the land was beginning to heal from the scars of war.

A familiar, throaty screech reached his ears, and he looked up. Petra and Lili were coming in for a landing, just a little ways down the wall. As the wyvern touched down, Petra slid off her back and ran toward him, flinging her arms around his neck.

Byleth staggered, the wind almost knocked out of him, but managed to grasp at her hips as she pulled him into a tender kiss. Her lips were chapped and her skin was cold from the wind of her flight.

“You’re in a good mood,” Byleth said as they parted, with a wry smile. “Did you fly the whole day away?”

“No,” Petra said. “After some time, I was setting snares with Shamir to prepare for this week’s hunt. And then, I was joining Flayn for fishing, and Seteth was asking me to scout beyond the walls.”

“Mm,” Byleth said, holding her face in his hands. “It sounds like we’ve both had a busy day.”

Petra walked her fingers up the buttons of his shirt. “And will we be having a busy night?”

He grinned, pulling her closer. “It seems that way.”

“Good,” she said. “I am only having so much patience!” With a wink, she kissed him quickly and took his hand, leading him along the wall to the tower door. “Lili,” she called over her shoulder. “Téigh go dtí do láthair!”

Lili spread her wings and took off from the wall, her sputtering croaks echoing off the cliffside.

“What did you tell her?” Byleth asked.

“I am telling her to go back to her spot in the aviary,” Petra replied. “She is being well-behaved enough to get there on her own.”

The two of them descended the tower stairs and cut through the gardens at a leisurely pace. The monastery staff, soldiers, and a few knights were around, but didn’t waylay them beyond a few words of acknowledgement. It was a peaceful scene, one to be thankful for.

Their feet led them to Byleth’s quarters, nice and out of the way behind the Officers’ Academy classrooms. The stables were closed and mostly quiet across the path, only the occasional whinny to mark the horses getting ready for bed.

Byleth opened the door and held it for Petra, who stepped through and began to doff her boots. As he closed it behind him with a _ click, _he began to feel butterflies in his stomach. They were only going to do what they’d attempted three or four times already, but now that it was premeditated, it felt...different.

Not _ bad _different, but it gave him nerves.

The other partners he’d been with during his career as a mercenary had mostly been one-night lays. Most had also been other fighters he’d never see again. This build-up and denial of trying to get alone time over several days with someone he’d known for a good while was...new. 

He didn’t have a frame of reference for Petra’s past partners, but she clearly knew what she was doing. Was she feeling nervous in the same way he was? He was sure that once they got their hands on each other again, it wouldn’t matter.

And he was right. As soon as he got his boots off, Petra surged toward him, grabbing the front of his shirt, and kissed him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth with a moan that consumed any jitters he had left.

Byleth seized her arms and whirled her around, pressing her back against the inside of the door. This time, _ he _ wanted to be the one to work on _ her _neck. She’d been kind by not leaving any marks to be seen at breakfast, but it had still felt like he wasn’t keeping pace.

Petra inhaled sharply as his teeth grazed her pulse point, arching her back into his embrace. She squirmed with pleasure as he continued swiping his tongue and lips over her skin, stopping to bite and suck greedily every few inches.

“My love,” she gasped. “You are going to be marking me! Everyone will be seeing!”

Byleth looked up, breathing heavily. “I don’t mind,” he rasped. “Do you?”

With a whimper, Petra rubbed her thighs together, going limp against the wall. “...no,” she said. “I do not mind…”

With a smirk, Byleth rewarded her with another long, sucking bite, before licking over the mark to soothe it. She shook as he blew air over the wet, tender spot.

As he straightened up to meet her eyes, she reached down between them, eager to even the score, and palmed him through the front of his pants. Byleth flinched, as if electrified, and groaned through his teeth.

“You are being quite sensitive,” Petra said. “And so expressive, down here, it is being clear what you are thinking…”

Byleth bit his lip and reached between her legs, but she straightened her arm, pushing him away gently. “Tease,” he said weakly.

“Last time, I was undressing for you,” she giggled. “Now…” her free hand loosened his ascot. “I am thinking you should be undressing for me.”

“Ah, but that was educational,” said Byleth. “It doesn’t count.”

“It _ was _very educational,” Petra agreed, squeezing him and sending a throb of pleasure singing through his body. “And all of your learning, that is what I am holding in my hand, hmm?”

“Petra,” Byleth breathed, edging dangerously close to a whine.

She laughed and let go of him, dodging around to stand free and sit on the bed. Her back straight, she fixed him with a look, smug and smoky. “I am waiting.”

Byleth sighed in mock resignation and reached up, unbuttoning his collar and pulling out the silk ascot, letting it float to the floor. He tackled the next few buttons slowly, watching Petra watching him. 

She was having a hard time keeping a straight face, and when he grinned at her, she covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth.

Whipping the opened shirt over his shoulder, Byleth undid his slacks and slid them down his legs, stepping out of them. Wearing nothing but his braise, his cock was unmistakable, hard and straining at the fabric.

Petra leaned forward, worrying her lip with her teeth as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, much as he had seen her do, and pulled them down tantalizingly slow, letting his cock spring free. Naked, he approached the bed, his smirk softened, as an odd shyness took hold of him.

As he reached the bedside, Petra half stood, pushing him gently down to lie on his back. She pulled her top over her head, unclasped the brassiere she wore for flight and combat, and tossed it aside, breasts bouncing in the open air. Crawling atop him on all fours, she inched her skirt down, its bangles announcing every movement.

Before she was completely nude, her lips found his, and one of her hands smoothed down his chest to find and wrap around the base of his cock. Bringing him to full hardness with slow, gentle pumps, she shook free of the last of her clothes and laid her weight on him, bare skin on bare skin.

Byleth hummed into her mouth, running his hand up the inside of her thigh and finding the cleft of her legs. He felt the bushy curls part and wetness touched his fingertips, guiding them inside of her. Petra made a pleased noise and broke the kiss, eyes shut, hand tightening around his length.

For a moment, they continued like that, his fingers slowly coaxing her open, her hand easing precum from his tip. She seemed to grow wetter by the second, until it was running down into the hollow of his knuckles. 

“Petra,” Byleth said shakily as she rolled her thumb over his head. “You’re so wet…”

“I am ready for you,” she moaned. “I was wanting this for so long.” Pulling her hand off him with one last tug, she lowered herself, letting him remove his fingers before she settled her core against his underside, slick and heavy and burning hot. 

Wiping his fingers on the blanket, Byleth ran his hands up her sides, palming her breasts as she began moving, sliding back and forth along the length of him. “Ah,” he gasped, wide eyes staring into hers. 

Petra smiled. “It is feeling good, yes?” She made a small circle with her hips, changing the way she rubbed against him. “It will be feeling even better when we are one…_ ah, _” her mouth fell open as he pinched her nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb. 

Byleth moved his hips, joining her rhythm, and eliciting another moan as she sat up, out of his grip, and began rocking back and forth in earnest. Petra’s braids fell behind her, tickling his thighs, and her eyes were half-lidded, her face glowing with need.

When he was well and truly coated in her slick, she lifted herself up and took hold of him again, positioning him beneath her. Byleth reached down to help, holding his cock still at the base. 

“Ready?” he whispered.

Petra nodded, “Yes,” and lowered herself, enveloping him in silky warmth. Her jaw dropped again, lips forming a silent ‘o’ as she took him further and further, until she was resting on her haunches, as deep as he could fit.

His vision swam for a moment. Byleth shuddered, his hips jerking up involuntarily. Petra made a noise of exclamation low in her throat, eyes snapping open. Apparently, she liked what she saw, because she smiled, taking the hand he’d offered to help her, drawing it to her face, and kissing his palm. She then let him pull her down to him for a sloppy, needy kiss.

Their first few thrusts were out of time, both too eager, still trying to catch their breath. Byleth in particular was overwhelmed, legs shaking uncontrollably with leftover tension. Each of Petra’s kisses relaxed him, inch by inch, and she calmed similarly, melting into him as they grew used to one another.

“You are feeling so big inside of me,” she murmured into his neck.

Byleth groaned, his hands finding her rear and cupping it to him, giving her a better angle to move with him. “Mh…goddess, that’s so good…”

Petra began to bounce, slowly, but picking up the pace as he caught on to her rhythm. With every roll of her hips, Byleth would thrust up, sometimes at once, sometimes a second after her. He slid his hands up her waist, pulling her down onto him.

“Yes,” Petra hissed. “Yes, yes, yes…ah!” Arching her back, she leaned backward, using his grip as leverage. 

Byleth’s toes curled as she clenched around him. He was well on his way to release, but he refused to leave Petra behind. Bumping his hips off beat, he scooted backward until he could sit up against the headboard, bringing Petra back down on his lap. 

Now he could kiss at her collar and chest, and if he dipped his head, take her nipples into his mouth, one by one. He kissed down her breast on the left, pursed his lips, and sucked, just barely scraping his teeth.

Petra tossed back her head, crying out as he hilted inside her with the same motion. “Ah! My love!”

Byleth flicked her other nipple with his tongue and licked up to the hollow of her throat, nuzzling at the hickey’s he’d left. “Petra,” he moaned, his voice tight. “You’re so _ beautiful_.” 

“Mh, ah, Byleth! Yes!” Petra’s hand slid up his back to fist in his hair. “I am - it is - I will be finishing very soon!”

Looking up in surprise, Byleth found her panting and red-faced, looking very much at her limit. He felt a surge of motivation. He wanted to make her cum. He wanted her to have _ multiple _orgasms before the night was over.

“Do it,” he said, picking up speed. “Cum for me, Petra, that’s it, yes-”

Petra grabbed his shoulders and went rigid, shaking as a broken moan tore from her swollen lips. She tightened around him, more so than ever before, spasming with helpless pleasure.

Byleth held her until she calmed, letting her ride it out with gentle dips and rolls. Panting, she kissed him, licked across his lower lip, smothered his face with more kisses.

“Mm...you are kind, Byleth..” Petra said. “I am wanting to...be kind to you too…” She rocked her hips, gasping a little. 

“Do you need me to be on top?” Byleth asked, feeling rather short of breath himself.

“I would be liking that,” she said. “Please…”

Pulling out of her, which drew a mewl of loss from low in her throat, Byleth swung to the side to help her lay down; then, when she was resting on the pillows, he pushed her legs up, laid them over his shoulders, and teased her clit, rubbing tight, easy circles.

Petra hummed as he lined up his cock and gasped as he thrust inside her, an entirely new sensation in this position. Byleth groaned through his teeth. He was _ definitely _not going to last.

He bent forward on his knees to kiss her and started to move, bottoming out inside her easily with the friction from her first orgasm. His hands gripped the underside of her thighs, fingers denting her plush muscle. He knew the strength of those legs. Her tattoos, on full display, swirled in front of his eyes, forming a map for his tongue and teeth.

“Mmh, ah.” Petra’s nails dug into his back, the slight pain bringing a delicious edge to the overwhelming pleasure elsewhere. “I am still feeling - sensitive...it is, mm, good -”

Byleth leaned into his thrusts more, driving deep inside her in a way he would have thought painful before she rode him into oblivion so vigorously. Petra responded by raising her hips into him, unlimbering her legs from his shoulders and pressing them on the outside of his arms.

Taking the hint, he raised his arms and let her wrap her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles behind his back and pulling him closer - pulling him _ deeper. _ He almost bit his tongue in shock, and that was when he realized his mouth was hanging open - and how _ loud _he was getting.

“_Yes,_ my love,” Petra urged him. 

A growling whine tore past his lips. “...ngh...Petra…”

“Yes!” She brought her hands to the back of his neck, clasped them, pulled him down until it seemed her legs and arms and body surrounded him completely. “Say my name, yes, yes…!”

“Petra,” Byleth repeated. It wasn’t hard to do as she asked. Her name came to him like a prayer. “Petra, Petra-”

“Byleth!” Petra circled her hips underneath him, shuddering as she came undone again. “Is breá liom an oiread sin, mothaíonn sé go maith, líon mé suas é ba mhaith liom é!”

Byleth’s vision went white, then black, then white again. He felt the base of his spine heat up and then he was trembling, arms and legs buckling as he came inside her. Petra rubbed his back, still coming down herself, whispering nothings as he buried his face in her chest.

Feeling limp and tense all at once, he gathered his strength and pushed himself up, pressing a fumbling kiss to her cheek. Petra turned her head and kissed his mouth, rolling onto her side to let him relax onto the bed. 

She rubbed her nose against his, peppering his face with more kisses. “My love,” she said. “That was feeling truly wonderful...”

Byleth hummed a tired laugh, catching his breath. “Yes. I’d say that was well worth the wait, wouldn’t you?”

Petra giggled contentedly. “I am in agreement.” Her hand wandered up his thigh and played at his cock, making his breath hitch. His oversensitivity was beginning to wear off, and he felt himself growing gradually harder under her touch.

“Petra?” His voice sounded faint in his own ears.

She drew a hand across his chest, teasing his nipple in an approximation of how he’d treated hers. “I can be doing what I could not this morning, if you like…”

“Oh, goddess,” Byleth moaned. He had a pretty good idea of what she meant. “Yes, please.”

With another giggle, Petra kissed his chest, and then continued lower, indeed retracing her earlier steps. She stopped to hover over his length, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, broad and flat, to lick the tip.

Byleth inhaled, shaky and long.

Petra sheathed him between her lips, sliding down about halfway before bobbing up again. She licked and sucked their mingled taste off his shaft and, the corners of her mouth curling into a bit of a smile, she took him again, deeper. Or, at least, it _ felt _deeper.

“_Goddess, _” Byleth said again, though he wasn’t so sure he meant Sothis anymore.

Humming happily, Petra bobbed her head a few more times, letting him feel the purse of her lips and every flick of her tongue, before pulling off him with a wet _ pop. _She kissed his tip and began to stroke him, twisting her hand on each pull. 

“Petra, that’s…” panting, Byleth writhed under her, hands bunching the sheets.

Petra sensed victory. She brought her other hand to cup his balls, warm and firm, adding another edge as she stroked him off quickly, wrist loose, and slid her mouth down his tip, clearing his head. With an encouraging moan, she squeezed his shaft and _ sucked. _

Byleth saw stars. The first time he came, he had felt everything in exquisite detail. This time, it was a rush of heat and sensation and _ noise. _All the tension he had left flowed out of him, into Petra’s mouth, and dribbled down her chin in pearly strands.

When he was done, boneless and panting once again, Petra wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and swallowed, offering him a shy, but pleased, smile. 

“...Wow,” Byleth mustered, shaking his head. “I...I _ have _to answer that, now, don’t I?”

Petra laid down next to him, laughing softly. “If you are wanting to.”

“May I?” He stroked her flank, dipping his hand between her legs. “Return the favor?”

“After…finishing twice,” Petra said. “It...may be taking a while.”

He smiled. “I can think of no better way to relax.”

Petra bit her lip and rolled onto her back, spreading her legs. “You do not mind that we have already - _ ah! _”

Byleth had entered her with two fingers already, flexing them to caress her sore muscles open once more, and descended upon her clit with his lips and tongue. 

He spent some time drawing every sound of pleasure out of her that he could, teasing at the cluster of nerves near her opening, pushing at the very deepest point in her folds, and sucking wherever he could, pushing her to the brink of ecstasy.

Eventually, he found that the best method was licking her in rapid, short strokes while he made time inside her, curling both fingers as if beckoning to her.

“Byleth…!” Petra moaned. “I - I am needing you to slow down!”

He pulled off her, slowing his fingers and taking the opportunity to catch his breath. “Too much?”

“No,” she breathed. “But...slowly, like this, I am nearing it…” She angled her hips, raking her fingers through his hair and grabbing at the back of his neck. “Please, more - just like this - nn!"

Byleth drew it out, slow and heavy, licking messily at her clit, swirling his tongue and growling low in his throat.

“Yes,” Petra panted. “Yes, yes,-!”

Once more, she tightened and spasmed in his grip. She was silent this time, clinging to him with short, heaving breaths, until her hand relaxed, letting go of his hair.

Sunset streamed in through the curtains as Byleth drew his fingers slowly out of her, wiping them clean as he had before and collapsing down next to her. Now, he was forced to concede, he was well and truly spent.

Petra’s eyes opened and she huddled to him, smiling knowingly. “I was telling you,” she said. “You were not knowing the half of it, calling me insatiable.”

Byleth laughed. “I was talking about breakfast.”

“I _ could _have been having you for breakfast,” Petra said. “But my arm was troubling me. Now...it is no longer troubling me.” She smiled wider, showing teeth and pausing to lick her lips.

Byleth swallowed, hard. If there was any reason to keep his promise and promptly go to sleep, this was it. 

The look on his face must have said it all, because Petra laughed and kissed him. “I did it,” she sang. “I got the victory. Hurry to sleep, my love. You will be liking what is waiting for you…”

Laughing, he hugged her closer. “I love you, Petra. Is breá liom tú.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Is breá liom tú ró, meala.”

Byleth smiled, pulled her to his chest, and kissed the top of her head.

He needed no translation.


End file.
